


never

by arexnna



Series: lost stars [9]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Neverland, Post-Neverland
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-06
Updated: 2015-02-06
Packaged: 2018-03-10 19:39:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3301166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arexnna/pseuds/arexnna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>what would have happened had Pan's curse not arose (in my head, at least). post-neverland angst</p>
            </blockquote>





	never

**Author's Note:**

> yeah so, i've been craving some post-neverland angst so i wrote one myself

Things have been off for the past few weeks – not in the _a-villain-is-on-the loose_ weird or a _I feel like someone’s-going-to-die_ odd either. It’s just been… _off_.

Coming back from the hellhole dubbed Neverland, she’d think things would resume to whatever level of normalcy Storybrooke is capable of - and it _did_. Everything resumed back its normal states, adapting to the new additions to the little Storybrooke family (with Ariel and Tink and Lost Boys and the lack of Greg and Tamara), but they adjusted quick and well.

With the addition of Neal, Henry’s timetable had gone slightly more hectic, alternating between stays at either Emma’s, Regina’s or Neal’s places.

They’d found homes for most of the lost boys – some luckier than others to find their _actual_ parents, whereas other couples took in the boys with huge smiles and open arms. Felix on the other hand, was a bit more of a hassle. He’d refused to behave with his first family ( _oh the poor Roberts)_ and on the very first night he stayed at the second home, he’d packed his bags and ran away. It took them awhile to find him a suitable place to stay but they’d eventually found it with a couple that lived near the woods (apparently the boy was feeling quite nostalgic and the greenery reminded him of Neverland).

Things were so oddly _normal_ (putting aside the new additions) that Emma had had nothing much to do. She could resign from being Sheriff and it wouldn’t make a difference. Though just because nothing _bad_ was actually happening, that by far did _not_ mean that things were _good_.

Between Neal trying to hijack his nights with Henry trying to turn it into _family night_ and her parents trying to _add_ to their family (she’s not deaf – she can hear those late night groans she wishes she could erase from her mind), things weren’t great.

What’s odd is that the thing she notices the most is the lack of pirate presence. Over the time spent on the nightmare island, she’d grown accustomed to his company, gotten used to his flirty winks and blue eyes and helpful words, but the moment they arrived in Storybrooke, the two have yet to have a proper conversation. Some days, she catches glimpses of black leather and dark hair, and on _good_ days, she gets a tight-lipped smile and a small wave. One morning, when she’d gone to get her daily dose of coffee from Granny’s, she’d caught sight of him coming in through the swinging doors only to dash out from the entrance door and onto Main Street. She’d wanted to wave, to smile – say hi or _something_ , but as quickly as he appeared, the faster he vanished.

Ruby had mentioned in passing that he stays in the inn every few days a week, not that she’d asked or that she even _cares_.

(But she _does_ care. After everything he’s done for her—them, _of course_ , she cares—)

(She cares whether he’s fitting in here, whether people still look at him as a villain when he’s not, she cares if he stays and she prays that he doesn’t go)

“How is he?” she asks Ruby, murmurs over the brim of her mug. It’s Friday morning and if she’s right – he didn’t even stay in the inn the night before.

The man’s not even there, but it doesn’t have to be said – with recent events, who else would she be talking about? She tries playing it off as light, not that she _really_ wants to know how he’s doing, she’s just… _asking_ – ‘cause that’s what Sheriffs do, don’t they?

Ruby shrugs, pushing the buttons of the coffee machine, her back facing Emma, “Seems a bit _off_ – not that I _know_ him to know what _normal_ is –“ she turns, leaning back on the opposite counter propped up by her arms, “I’ve had a few drinks with him over at the Rabbit Hole – doesn’t seem to have much friends.” She leans over the counter, perched on her elbows with her chin resting in the palm of her hand. “He hangs with Tink more often than not – I think they’re just both unfamiliar with the town.”

She has no right – she knows it. No right at all, and yet she feels the pale of her skin turn green with envy at the sound of that. It’s not like she’s paying any attention to him – so, why _shouldn’t_ he seek company in an old friend? ( _Frien?_ _Lover_? She’d rather not know)

Emma nods her head slowly, acting as though those words didn’t affect her as much as they should. “That’s good.”

“He spends his time at the docks a lot too – I see him talking to some of those lost boys sometimes, showing him around his ship.”

An image of him showing Henry around the Jolly Roger appears in her mind. How gentle he’d be, smoothing his hand over the smooth wood of his ship, the twinkle in his eyes when he speaks of her. She imagines him telling his son of his adventures from long ago, pictures Hook teaching Henry how to tie ropes or God knows _what_ sailor-y things he’d teach him.

It’s an image she shakes out of her head when her phone buzzes.

_Dad_ reads the screen, and she doesn’t even need to pick up to know she’s needed at the station.

She pulls out a ten-dollar bill, leaving the change as a tip for her friend before picking up her things to move towards the door, a small smile thrown at Ruby’s way as she leaves.

-/-

It’s nothing more than a drunken brawl that needs settling at the station between a dwarf ( _Sleepy? Dopey?_ She doesn’t even know anymore) and a newly arrived ( _from God knows where_ ) Will Scarlet. The day is bland from then, simply sorting out paperwork, making sure nothing illegal’s been happening since their trip to Neverland.

Her mum visits just before lunch with two coffees in tow. She invites both David and her for a meal ( _at nowhere other than Granny’s!_ ) but she politely declines. The chances of running into Neal at the diner are far too high and she refuses to risk it.

Just the night before, he’d invited her over for _family_ movie night and she couldn’t help the cringe at the sound of the word. Neal and her would never be family – maybe once upon a time, ten years ago – but now, he’s nothing more than her son’s father.

(She’s tried – credit has to be given where it’s due – but there’s no _spark_ , not a single ounce of chemistry left to react to)

So when the clock strikes five, masterfully ignoring Neal’s multiple **_hey :)_** ’s, she packs up her things ( _her phone basically_ ) and locks up.

She’s got nowhere to go – Henry staying at Regina’s for the night and her parents having their _at-home-date-night (she shudders at the thought)_ – so she heads back to where she started.

A flash of leather and a head of raven hair, she sees in a distance – the figure accompanied by a much smaller one and she’s not blind to notice that it’s Tink who he’s walking with. They stroll along the docks side by side, not like they’re hand-in-hand or anything, but there’s a sudden surge of jealousy that flames in her yet again.

And again, she has _no right_.

She knows all the signs she gave him led him away, yet she can’t help the disappointment at the broken promise he’d made her. It’s not like it’s even his fault that his words weren’t seen through, she just—she just expected something else.

It’s not sulking _technically_ , but with her hands stuffed in her jacket pockets and her jaw clenched as she drags her feet step by step towards the diner – _okay, she’s sulking._

The chime of the door as it opens for her is far too _happy_ for her mood and—

“Emma!” Ruby’s squeal catches her off-guard, forcing a smile onto her tired lips.

She sits down opposite the waitress, her groan muffled by the burial of her face in her hands.

“Long day?” Ruby’s chirpiness rings in her ears and when she peeks through her fingers, her grin is large and wide and _way too much_.

“Yeah,” she says slowly, her eyebrows crinkling, “What’s all this? You’re planning something aren’t you?” she gestures at the glee evident on her face.

“Yup,” she pops the _p_ , the grin growing wider. “We’re going drinking.”

“ _No—“_

-/-

She hates it, absolutely loathes it. Ruby’s forced her _out_ of her jeans and jacket and into a blouse and a skirt. Emma Swan – in a skirt. She can barely even remember the last time she was in a skirt – probably before Henry’d found her, a ruse to catch one of those bail-skipping bastards.

And so she finds herself dragged by the arm, in one of Ruby’s _not-appropriate-for-lunch-with-my-parents-length_ skirts into Storybrooke’s most famous ( _and only_ ) bar: _The Rabbit Hole_.

There’s a high chance she’ll run into Hook here (Hook _and_ Tink, lets correct ourselves, shall we?) but drinks are on Ruby and Emma’s never been one to refuse free alcohol.

And as the door swings open and Emma’s being pulled into the bar, the first thing she sees sitting in the corner table with (as expected) Tink and (not so expected) Will Scarlet, is Captain Hook himself. Tink and Will are engrossed in conversation, talking about God knows what adventures (she hears mentions of _Neverland_ and _Wonderland_ and _God knows_ what other lands there are) but Hook’s eyes remain planted on the wood of the table.

She’s spent enough time with him on the God forbidden island to see that he’s distracted – the way his jaw clenches and his swipes absently on the handle of the mug of rum he’s holding.

“Mr. Jones!” Ruby calls and for a minute, Emma wonders who she’s referring to until it _finally_ clicks. He lifts his head at the voice, a small smile on his lips as his eyes raise to follow the source of the sound – that is until he sees the woman standing next to Ruby.

The curve of his lips fade and his eyes dim once more. She doesn’t know to feel hurt by this or not, mainly because she doesn’t quite know what it means.

He recovers quickly, raising his mug and bowing his head, “Red,” he nods in greeting as she slides in the booth next to him. The smile he shoots at her is forced, what more the “Good to see you around,” blank. She smiles in return – a genuine one, she tries – because she hates this awkwardness between them, and begs he’ll see this as a cry for some normalcy.

Once he’s gestured for a round for their table, he tilts his head ever so slightly, forcing himself into Will’s story.

“So there I walked in _peacefully,_ about to ask for a pintand out of nowhere no less than 20 _bastards_ went off pointing their swords at me throat for no good reason!” His accent is thick, amplified by the alcohol he’s clearly induced. She notes that he’s _very_ expressive, the way his eyebrows rise at his words and how his arms move to stress on his points, and it’s really quite amusing to watch his speak.

_His_ voice is smooth and calm, the exact opposite of Will’s, as he takes a sip of what is most likely rum, “Well, my dear Scarlet, lives tend to get threatened when you owe half of Wonderland debts.”

“Well you’d think after a few years those old hags would get over it-,” the bartender places five pints of rum on the table before them and they each grab one for themselves, “- I thought _wrong_.”

“Bottoms up.”

The alcohol burns down her throat and it’s been awhile since she’s had rum – _well_ , the last time being out of _his_ flask – but it’s _good_ and she needs this. She needs to loosen up, needs to let her hair down – _needs to talk to him_.

“Bloody hell, how do you drink that,” he grimaces along with the women of the table, “I meself quite prefer be—“ He pauses when his eyes catch Emma, squinting and pointing a curious finger at her. “Aren’t you the Sheriff? Should we be drinking with you?”

For a moment, it looks like Hook’s about to say something but—

Ruby cuts in, backing her up with a smile, “Emma’s cool – don’t worry. Sheriff duties turned off, right?”

“Aye, aye,” she salutes (and she did _not_ just say that because it reminds her of him), “I’m completely off duty.” She regrets what she does next – chugging a whole glass of rum is _never_ a good idea, but _god_ did that feel good.

Four pair of eyes watch in fascination, silence dawning upon them as a show of quiet admiration.

“Bloody hell, the Saviour’s got quite the stomach.”

And _wrong words, Will_. Because the moment he speaks them, Ruby’s face brightens.

“We’re going to play a game.”

-/-

(And no, it’s not as creepy as it sounds)

-/-

Of course, like the 30 year olds they are (by appearance for most of them at least – the age range varies quite vastly), they play the ever so mature _Never Have I Ever._

“I think I’ve grasped it!” Tink exclaims excitedly at Ruby’s explanation. “Never have I ever,” she begins slowly, looking around the table for conformation and getting patient nods in return, “been to a brothel.” She shines a proud smile at that, seemingly too pleased with her turn.

That gets her a smirk from Ruby, “Didn’t expect that from you, Tink,” she teases, tossing back her shot along with Will and Hook.

“Do strip clubs count?”

“Take a shot, Savior,” Will boomed.

-/-

Round 2: Emma’s turn – everyone drinks.

-/-

“Never have I ever stolen anything.”

“Bloody hell, Red – I’m a damn pirate!”

No one’s surprised when Emma joins Will and Hook in the second shot.

-/-

“Okay, I got a good one –“ Will’s smile is cheeky at this. He holds his hands out as if to prepare everyone for the _big one, “_ Never have I ever had shagged in a public area.”

Hook groans, shot glass ready in his hand, “Come on, Scarlet – as though you and your lass didn’t do it outside of the bedroom.”

“Nope,” he says proudly, “me and my Ana kept it private – drink up you filths.”

-/-

He’s had a couple of shots, this being their sixth, seventh round? (Who’s keeping track anyways?) And she can’t help but notice how the alcohol brings _his_ walls down.

And boy do his walls crumble down.

“Never have I ever been left by my father port when he’d said he would _be right back, son_.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, and maybe it’s the alcohol but she has the urge to reach over Ruby and just smoothen the stress lines in his face. They’re quiet as they stare blankly at each other, unknowing of what to do.

“No? Just me then?”

He takes two shots.

-/-

They manage to get the mood back to normal by the time it’s Ruby’s turn again. And of course she just _has_ to say it.

“Never have I ever had feelings for anyone at this table.”

He doesn’t even wait, tossing back the burning liquid without a second used to think it through. But she- she hesitates.

And much like the shot, he doesn’t wait before he scoots his way out from the booth, refusing to look or acknowledge anyone. He heads to the main door, swinging it open for it to swing shut right after him.

“I- I didn’t realize,” Ruby starts, regret clear on her face, “Should I check on—“

Emma shakes her head, “No, I’ll do it.”

She takes the shot.

-/-

She finds him in between the alleyway of the bar and a building that if she isn’t mistaken is a liquor store ( _what convenient placing, huh?_ ). He leans his body against the wall, head resting against the red brick as his legs prop him in a 45-degree angle.

“Hook—“

“That was stupid, I’m sorry, Swan. I shouldn’t have done that and just left – I should have just skipped it – I’m sorry, I—“

“I took the shot too,” her voice is _far_ more confident than she is. She wraps her arms around herself because of course the night she has to chase the guy she likes into the cold streets of Storybrooke is the same night that Ruby forces her to get rid of her jacket for something that can barely be called a blouse.

“What?”

He pushes himself off the wall slowly – probably not for some added swagger effect, but most likely due to his drunken state and him preferring _not_ to topple over.

She sighs as she takes a step towards him. “I don’t know what it is – but I have feelings for you, okay? I like you and I hate you, and sometimes you piss me off so much, but other times all I can think about is how much I _care_ about you and—“

“Emma—“

“—you’re an asshole most of the time – not that I see you much anymore – not since Neverland. And I haven’t even had the chance to say _thank you_ for all you’ve done – so _thank you_ – and even that, you deserve so much more than a thank you – but you’ve been _gone_ , and I don’t know how that makes me feel. But I know that when I see you with Tink and see how comfortable you are with Ruby, there’s a- there’s a _not nice_ feeling in me and I don’t want to feel that way but—“

“ _Emma_ ,” he puts his hand on her arm, the warmth of _him_ radiating and it sends heat through her body.

_“What?”_

“I didn’t know,” he says defeated.

“Well, how would you know – you weren’t _there.”_

“I backed off because of Baelfire. He wanted to be a family, with you, with Henry – I couldn’t deprive another boy of a family, not again.”

It took her longer than needed but she gets it – “Neal and I – _we’re done_. He can’t undo what he’s done and I can’t move past it.”

He lets out a long breath – “Of that I realized, but still I was sure it was one sided and I hoped that if I distanced myself from you, _my_ feelings would subside.”

“And did that work?” Her body sways towards him, and she’ll never admit the way she misses this lack of personal space – the way he’s just close enough to lean in, if _she_ wants.

“Not the slightest.”

And she wants to lean in.

So she does.

-/-

(With only one other to compare it to, it’s hard to rank this kiss. It’s slow and tender, every week of distance pressed from her lips to his, and his to hers. The bar door opening and closing, sudden cheers sounding through the night don’t manage interrupt in the moment, for with his mouth moving against hers, all she feels is the way one arm is wrapped around her waist and the other moves to her neck. She feels the brush of his nose on hers and the whiskery stubble against her cheeks. It’s languid, it’s soft, it’s _passionate_ )

(Neverland was much different. With the heat of the tropics and tension from within, it was a surge of want, giving and taking as they pleased)

(Both kisses she knows she’ll remember for all of time ( _God forbid some memory curse dawning upon them_ ), much like their third – a quick peck on the lips; and their fourth – a rushed and frantic _everything will be okay_ – followed by their hundred others afterwards)

(She’s drunk and he’s drunk, but inebriated or not, he’s the best decision she’s ever made – not that there was a choice to even _be_ made. Snippets of the hours from before is all they remember later, but one thing’s for sure – _Never Have I Ever_ is now definitely their favourite drinking game)

-/-


End file.
